


Heliocentric

by Lucreace



Category: Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Blood Angels, F/M, Power Shortage, a star, power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucreace/pseuds/Lucreace
Summary: When power in the Arx Angelicum fluctuates, the Emperor presents an unusual solution which may turn out to be more than the Angel can deal with.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	1. Idalia

The lights flickered. Again.

It was becoming a problem, and no amount of additional power the Mechanicum Adepts or Techmarines could generate solved the ever-fluctuating levels. Relay stations had been conducted, harnessing the strong wind that sundered the deserts. Solar conduits, erected with no other role but generating heat power, poured more energy into the rapidly depleting battery coils. It had little effect, the lights still flickered, the corridors dimmed, and power fluctuated.

Sanguinary Guard Captain Azkaellon looked up at the flickering lumen and placed his stylus down on the ornate desk. This was not the time for another black out. He had been working on the plans before him for hours, and to experience that while in the flow of thought would be most vexing. He spent a lot of his time vexed. He growled, conceding that it might be time to take a break and do something else. He picked up his encarmine blade and went in search for other members of the Sanguinary Guard.

First Captain Raldoron decapitated the head of a combat servitor as the power to it was cut, its programming interrupted. He drew in a frustrated breath and let it out slowly, before wiping beads of sweat from his face. He discarded his practice blade, one of the thralls picked it up reverently and dealt with it. Wrapping a towel around his thick neck, he glanced around at the other cages; they too had lost power and contained frustrated warriors. There was nothing for it, they would have to fight one another instead of drill.

Servio growled as the light danced in the apothecarium. The flicker broke his concentration, the surgery he was performing temporarily interrupted. It was a routine procedure, but the interruption was there none the less. Anything else and it could have meant death for the individual under the knife. It was a small measure of relief when the emergency light flicked on and his power armour torch lit up. At least he would be able to finish promptly. Brother Amaretto did not need another scar to show off to his squad-mates.

The Lord of Angels had been in a creative frenzy when his inner sanctum was plunged into complete darkness. He paused, paintbrush millimetres from the canvas he had been working on. The distant crunch and rumble told him that another of the power banks had blown. That was the third one in as many second night cycles. He placed the paint brush down and flicked his hair out of his face. He understood the problem, the Arx Angelicum was a vast fortress, growing daily as the IXth expanded, and there was not enough power to keep up.

He picked up a cloth, wiping his hands clean of excess oil and paint and let out a soft sigh. Although he’d had the conversation with the Techmarines before, maybe this time they would be willing to drill into the thermal core of the planet and use that as a power source. He knew the answer already. To do so would cause instability within the tectonic plates beneath Baal’s surface. The prolonged usage of such energy would tear the planet apart. He would not consider doing such an act, and the two moons wouldn’t generate enough power either. A more permanent solution had to be found.

“Status report,” he said, after thumbing the voxcaster unit on the wall.

The response was delayed by a few seconds, nothing unusual there. When the voice came, it was tinny. The techmarine stammered a bit, and Sanginius could hear a commotion in the background. “Three of the batteries have expired, another is on fire,” came the report. “It is being dealt with now.”

The light flickered back on, though it was not as bright as it had been before. Sanguinius sighed. “Do not worry about light in my chambers, ensure the vital systems remain online.”

“We shall.” The vox cut off then, just as the door burst open. A very disgruntled looking Azkaellon entered, his expression sourer than usual. Sanguinius held up his hand and shook his head.

“I know, and I do not have a solution for you. If you have one by all means present it to me,” he said, cutting off any complaint that the commander might have. The look of flabbergasted annoyance quickly fell from his face and Sanguinius gave his friend a smile. “We’ll think of something.”

The lights died again.

“I don’t believe this!” Azkaellon snorted.

“Peace Azkaellon, getting annoyed is only going to serve in making you feel worse. The tech priests are working on it. I think I will raise the solution they rejected again, nothing else has been forthcoming and we cannot continue with such power outages as this,” Sanguinius said. He walked over to a nearby side table and poured two glasses of wine. Both of them were capable of seeing in the dark, but it made it particularly difficult for the thralls and other mortal staff that occupied the Arx Angelicum. He could already hear the questions and grumbles of those who were close by.

The vox chimed as Sanguinius handed over one of the glasses to Azkaellon. He took it without question. Sanguinius took a sip of the sweet, red liquid before picking up the voxcaster again. This time it was an anxious woman on the other end. “Lord?” she said.

“Yes Toria, what’s wrong?”

“It’s the power, the entire west wing is in darkness Lord.”

“That’s nothing unusual, this has happened before,” he said.

“But, Lord, it’s just…”

“What is it?” Sanguinius asked, trying to keep his lack of patience out of his voice. He succeeded, mostly.

“The astropathic relay station, it’s down,” she said. Well, that changed things somewhat.

“Thank you Toria, Relay that to Tech Marine Tamiel, he will be able to organise a repair team to get that fixed.”

“He was the one who told me to inform you,” she said. Sanguinius smiled at that, perhaps this girl wasn’t entirely out of her depth after all. What she said next took that smile away, “He also said you should know that the sudden loss of power caused a message that was being sent to be cut off. It was being sent to the First Expedition Fleet.” There was a pause, “Lord?” Toria asked.

“Yes, thank you,” he said. Once again, he replaced the voxcaster and turned to Azkaellon.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I think it is safe to assume my father will be here shortly.” Sanguinius said. Even in the gloom, Azkaellon’s face was a picture. Somewhere between horror and awe, a sight that Sanguinius had rarely seen. “Don’t look like that, it will be fine,” he said with a calm he wasn’t sure he felt. Azkaellon drained the glass and placed it back on the table.

“It seems as though we have work to do,” he said. “We’re just going to have to do it in the dark too,” he snorted.

“I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Sanguinius said, a smile touching his lips. “You can see in the dark!”

***

By the time the First Expedition Fleet arrived in high anchor, the damage had been mostly repaired. Power was currently stable, and there were no signs of anything being wrong. Sanguinius, Azkaellon, Raldoron and a host of the other chapter members stood on the landing platform waiting for the descent of the Emperor. The hot wind of the Baal desert brought sand with it, plinking and scouring against the pristine battle plate of both the Primarch and the Warriors he commanded. The irradiated winds did no harm to their transhuman skin, though the humans who called this planet home were a very different story.

Sanguinius looked up to the sky, seeing Baal Primus kissing the eastern horizon. Short night would be upon them soon and the pink light would deepen to deep red. The dry scent of dust was on the air, but this place was home. Nowhere else was quite like it.

He was the first to see the vehicles that brought the Emperor’s Guardians to the surface, though his sons noticed quickly afterwards. The Custodians landed in the designated spot and filed out, another ship following, and another. Only when they had all landed did the final one descend from the heavens.

There were many who, after seeing the Emperor, claimed they couldn’t recall his appearance. That he was just a shining beacon of hope and light. That his benevolence robbed them of any lasting impression of his face. All the recalled was the gold armour and the feeling left in his wake. Sanguinius knew his father by sight, saw his handsome features and welcomed them. When he stepped onto the sand of Baal for the second time, the Emperor was welcomed by his beloved son. They did not embrace, such was not their way, but instead clasped wrists in the greeting of warriors.

“Welcome once more to Baal, Father.” Sanguinius said. The clatter behind him as thousands of warriors dropped to their knees almost drowned out his voice, though he was sure his father heard regardless.

The smile on his father’s face was warm, though there were the signs of strain behind the smile. “My son,” he said. “I cannot stay.” Sanguinius tried not to let his disappointment show on his face, but the Emperor saw it before he could hide it. “I know you’re trouble here is finding a power source, I know all your solutions have come up with nothing as well.”

Sanguinius nodded, “You are not wrong,” he said.

“And tapping into the planet’s core won’t work, the tectonic plates aren’t stable enough for it.” The Emperor did not make a move further towards the fortress, but did gesture for the warriors in the background to rise. None of them did. “I have a solution for you.”

“You do?” Sanguinius said.

“I do, but you’re going to have to figure out how to get it to work yourself,” he said. “I cannot stay or linger here, I am due to join the Space Wolves.”

Sanguinius tilted his head a little when the Emperor raised a hand. Four of the Custodes brought out a huge crate made of metal. “What is that?” he asked. He couldn’t sense any heat coming from the crate, or light however it was sealed rather tightly. Nor could he detect what material the crate was made from, only that it was a high density metal of some sort.

“A power source. It is a crushed star,” The Emperor said. Sanguinius blinked.

“A what..?”

“I haven’t the time to go into details of how that happened, but I have information that you may find useful. There is a data-slate on the side of the crate which will help you harness the power of the star.” The Emperor smiled and Sanguinius felt the worry about what he would do fall away. He would find a way to utilize the star and bring stability to the Arx Angelicum and the surrounding buildings too.

“I will find a way,” he said, bowing his head.

I know you will. But do not take too long my son, we have a galaxy to reunite,” he said. He then clasped Sanguinius’ fore-arm once more, “I shall see you again among the stars.”

“Before you go father, tell me, what is this one called?” Sanguinius glanced at the box, thinking there would be little harm in finding out that piece of information before his father left the system again.

“Idalia,” he said. “From a system of the same name, many, many light-years from here.”

Sanguinius nodded. “Idalia,” he said. It was not a name he knew, but that didn’t matter.

The Emperor dropped his wrist, a smile on his face. “Until next time,” he said.

“Farewell father,” Sanguinius said. The Emperor turned then and headed back to his transport ship. The custodes then retreated back to theirs and they departed as swiftly as they came. Sanguinius heard his men rise behind him, but he did not take his eyes from the pink sky until the vehicles were out of sight. Only then did he turn his attention to the crate that had been left behind.

Azkaellon and Raldoron stepped forward and he nodded, “Take it the central hall,” Sanguinius said. He walked up to the large crate and picked up the data-slate. “I will be there shortly, I want to see what information my father has left me to work with.”

They confirmed and waved several others over to help. Sanguinius headed back towards the caldera, wondering how he was going to be able to harness the power of a star.


	2. Chapter 2

The Emperor had left a highly detailed report about Idalia, the system in which it illuminated and how he had crushed it. The physical effort of doing so was beyond a mind even as vast as Sanguinius’. The angel knew that it was something he would not be able to accomplish alone. By the looks of the notes he was now reading, it seemed as though his father had barely done so. It had taken a great deal of his strength, all his will and not a bit of luck either if he was reading between the lines correctly. There were no details on why he had done such a thing. Sanguinius adored his father greatly but knew he was not altruistic enough to do so merely to help stabilise his Chapter’s Fortress Monastery. He was left wondering what he was not being told, and then immediately felt terrible for thinking so little of his father. Why would he not want to help them? The power failure had interrupted a valuable message and there was nothing to stop it from doing so again. What if it happened during a call for aid?

Sanguinus dismissed the uncharitable thoughts from his mind and continued to read through what he had been given. There was precious little on how to use the crushed star as a power source. It appeared he was going to have to try and figure that out for himself. He was not above a challenge and he got the impression that this was going to be one of those.

He had barely finished the first part of the report when the vox chimed. He did not roll his eyes, but the frustration at being disturbed rattled through him anyway. Maybe he should take this to the top of the Arx Angelicum where he wouldn’t be interrupted at all. Dutifully, he picked up the receiver, “What is it?” he asked.

The excited voice of Techmarine Sariel buzzed at the other end of the line, “You won’t believe it,” he jabbered, “The box isn’t enough, we cannot work on-“

“Slow down,” Sanguinius said, trying to calm the excited Techmarine. “Take a breath and start from the beginning. I am sure you didn’t interrupt my study just to jabber at me,” he said, trying hard to mask the annoyance.

“Apologies,” he said. Sanguinius waited while Sariel drew in a breath and calmed himself.

“Now, tell me from the beginning.”

“We have attempted to use the box as a conduit for power, however doing so has overloaded several of the relays we need to transport the energy. The docking stations we have are not enough to channel the energy of the star, we need to come up with a solution to get it to work,” Sariel explained.

This time, Sanguinius did roll his eyes. Usually, the enthusiasm of the mechanicum marines and priests was endearing, today however it was annoying. “I appreciate you trying this, but I seem to recall the order was to leave the box alone when it was placed, not to meddle around or fuss with it. I have the Emperor’s notes on the entity in that box and I need to read through it before we do anything. I do not want that star damaged!” he said. “Do nothing further unless I explicitly tell you to do so,” he said.

“Of course,” Sariel said. Sanguinius could almost see his dendrites drooping in disappointment. He smiled.

“You will get the chance to tinker with it, I promise you that just not now!” He then replaced the vox, cutting the conversation off. The last thing he wanted was to get into a lengthy debate on anything. He had work to do and he wanted to focus. When it chimed again, he ignored it. He walked into his private study, shut the door and locked it. Of course, there was a private vox in here too, but only certain members of the chapter had access to it. Unless the planet was exploding, he would not be disturbed.

Hot wind blew through the open window, bringing with it small particles of sand. The desert always sought to reclaim that which the Blood Angels had taken from it, though it was a futile effort. It would take a great many grains of sand to bury the fortress that the volcano caldera had become. Sanguinus liked the warm wind, it reminded him of his childhood, brief as that was, on Baal Secundus. There would be time to visit home again soon, of that he was naggingly sure.

Picking the chair by the window, Sanguinius sat down and focused entirely on the information his father had provided. He quickly learned that the box was little more than a containment field, a way of transporting the crushed star without the intense heat or radiation affecting those around it. If it were to be removed from the box, these factors would become a problem. He made a note in the margin, highlighting this needed to be considered. As it was, there was no way to harness the star’s power. They would have to construct a conduit for the power to flow through; that would mean removing it from the box and placing in a designated containment field.

He would have to make a statue…

Sanguinius managed to read the report twice more before he was disturbed. His memory was eidetic and he had no real need to read it more than once, but he found it helped the ideas and information sink in. The tap at the door came as no surprise. It was Azkaellon who stepped in.

“I think you should come and see this,” he said without preamble.

“What is it?” Sanguinius asked. He rose to his feet, stretched out his wings and looked at his companion, wondering what could have gone wrong now.

“The box has started moving,” Azkaellon said. “No one is touching it, but there is certainly banging coming from inside and it is moving!”

Sanguinius blinked. There had been nothing like that in the reports he had just read. In fact, they had stated that there had been no movement at all. Something which the Emperor had found odd, though he had never explained why. “Very well,” he said, “Let’s see what’s going on.”

It was not far to the Cathedrum. A name that Sanguinius thought fitting, though it brought up connotations of a heathen age long past. The huge building was perfect for gathering the Legion and speaking with them altogether. One the rare occasion when they were together, they just about all fit. The high, vaulted ceiling carried voices well and when the Angel’s sang, it echoed throughout the entire Fortress. Huge, stained glass windows allowed the red light to filter through and the entire space radiated peace. The walls were lined with creations made by members of the Legion, paintings, statues and banners all made by the hands of the warriors who called this place home.

A large space had been cleared to make room for the container, revealing the carved stone floor. Often it was covered by various seating, space marines or other living beings. Sanguinius always thought the patterns were beautiful. The winged blood drop surrounded by intricate weaving patterns had distracted him for hours in the past. Now was not the time for distractions, so he drew his attention from it and returned it to the matter at hand.

At the centre was the box, though that word was hardly fair to the size of it. It had taken four of his warriors to carry it into the Cathedrum, and he knew he would struggle to lift it by himself. It was large and heavy. And it was moving, just as Azkaellon said. Not much of a movement, but he could detect the entity within trying to make itself known. Small pulses radiated from inside the box as he approached. The warriors gathered around it parted as he walked towards it.

“Careful Lord, we do not know what will happen if you touch it,” Azkaellon said.

Sanguinius shot his friend a warm smile, aware that his warning was sincere, if somewhat overprotective. As he got closer to the box, the trembling increased. It was as though something was alive in there. He was sure he could hear scratching coming from inside. “Something’s trying to get out!” he said.

“Lord!” Raldoron stepped forward at the same time as Azkaellon. Sanguinius waved them back. He felt the build-up of power, but sensed no direct or immediate danger from the entity within. Gently, he placed his hand on the top of the box. He was no rival to his brother Magnus when it came to psychic potential, foresight was the only way his gift had manifested; it did not stop him from thinking calm thoughts as he touched the container. He drew his hand back sharply.

The warriors behind him drew weapons. “Relax,” he said, “It was cold, and unexpected. Nothing more.” He heard them ease off. He bent down and found a catch on the top of the box. Looking up, he smiled. “Clear the room of thralls,” he said. The last thing he wanted was for them to be caught by a stray blast of radiation and their lives to end. There were not many within the Cathedrum, and those that were slipped away without a sound.

When the door to the Cathedrum had been shut, Sanguinius took a deep breath and flicked the catch. One side of the container fell away. A resounding clang echoed around the Cathedrum. Brilliant light flared from the side of the box, now open, and a deep rumble shook the floor.

Sanguinius screwed his eyes mostly shut and tried to peer through the light cast out by the broken star. Another rumble shook the foundation and the box jumped. “Watch out!” Raldoron said. Blinding brightness flashed into the room, all staggered as the world turned white.

It took seconds for Sanguinius to recover. When he was able to open his eyes, the light in the room had vanished, turned into a low, red gloom, as though the sun were setting. It was midday. All the light had been sucked away, into a figure that was now laying prone on the floor. His first thought was that it must be rather cold down there. The form materialised into a female figure, face down on the ground. She was clad in fabric the colour of the night sky, pin-pricked with white dots. A mass of black hair covered her head. She was breathing shallow breaths, as though these ones were her first.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Shuffling behind him made him raise his hand, warning his warriors to stay away. The woman gave a light moan and shifted her head. A pair of the palest blue eyes flickered open. They reflected the light, dancing and twinkling like stars. He extended a hand to her, wanting to help her up.

Those eyes widened, taking in her surroundings for a moment.

Then she screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Raldoron looked on, clutching his bolter tightly. As far as he knew, women did not fall out of boxes that contained crushed stars and start screaming. Normal ones at least. He knew that whatever this was, it should not have been in there! No one made a move towards the woman-star, all of them watched what she did. His grip tightened on his weapon, sure that this was a threat. Never mind where it came from or who had brought it here, it was a threat. He risked a glance at Azkaellon, whose scowl was deeper than his own. The Sanguinary Guard did not move however, as they had been ordered not to. Both of them bristled, but words died on their lips as Sanguinius raised his hand. It was clear that the primarch did not see the threat and that they should not either. Raldoron wasn’t convinced, but remained silent. He did not relax the grip on his weapon, and he knew is sword was at his side should he need it. He hoped he did not.

Azkaellon forewent the warning when Sanguinius took another step forward. “Lord!” he said, his encarmine blade in his hand, gripped tightly. “We have no idea what this is, what are you doing?”

The primarch rounded on him. The glare on his face was enough to silence the worried warrior. The screams continued. Azkaellon stepped back, muttering under his breath but no longer trying to convince Sanguinius that this was a bad idea. It was probably a bit late for that anyway. He stood next to Raldoran but remained silent, his eyes on what was happening in front of them. The words Azkaellon had spoken in the past echoed in Raldoran’s mind: he would sacrifice every single one of the Legion to ensure the safety of the primarch. It made him a difficult man to like. Raldoron brushed that aside however, needing to focus.

Sanguinius looked down at the screaming woman, wondering what he was supposed to do. He was about to bent down when thankfully the noise stopped. She looked down at her hands, blinked and rubbed her eyes, then let out a horrified gasp. Holding out her arm in front of her, she ran her other up it to her shoulder and then over her face, gently touching her nose and chin, her mouth and cheeks.

When she looked up to Sanguinus, her eyes were wide, her mouth open. “What have you done to me?” she said. She then squeaked and pulled a face. “Is that my voice?” she hissed. It was as though she had never said a word before and she was hearing her voice for the first time.

“Who are you?” Sanguinius asked. He bent down on his haunches, not wanting to loom over the woman, or get too close either. He may have dismissed Azkaellon’s warnings but he was no fool. He understood this might be dangerous as well. She looked at him, those pale blue eyes narrowing. Her gaze was appraising, examining him to see if he was a threat. She took in his face, his arms, chest and then noticed the white wings spreading behind him. If she was surprised, she never showed it.

“What did you do to me?” she repeated. Never had he heard such malicious bitterness in a voice before. Sanguinius pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“I did nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me you oversized parrot!” she barked. “I am not supposed to be like this! Therefore, something has happened. You are here, so you did something. What was it?”

“Who are you?” Sanguinius repeated, “I am Sanguinius, lord of the Blood Angels. This is Baal.” He tried to keep his tone even, not showing the surprise he felt at being addressed as such, but he knew he had failed at least a little in that. She looked from him to the warriors around her and back again.

“Idalia,” she said. “Of the Idalian system. Baal?” she frowned. Her eyes turned white for a moment and she appeared to swoon. Instinct made Sanguinius take a step forward, but he refrained from touching her. It was clear she was distressed enough as it was. She blinked and her eyes returned to normal once more. “Baal! But… Baal is so far, and red and! How did I get here?” Heat radiated from the woman, her ire clear.

“I cannot explain the particulars,” Sanguinius said, running his hand through his hair so it no longer fell in his face, “My father, the Emperor of Mankind, took you from where you were.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know a lot do you.”

“I am not privy to the Emperor’s every thought,” Sanguinius snapped back.

“That Godling?” she sniffed, “He hasn’t the power to contain his own ambition, let alone a star.” She shook her head.

“I would think otherwise.” The Angel got back onto his feet. “Seeing how you are here and not where you were.” Her eyes flashed, white light flaring in them. He heard his warriors behind him shuffle forward and he braced, preparing for the worst. She threw her hand towards him. Bolters racked around them both. Nothing happened. Snarling, she looked at her hand. She then thrust it towards him again. Again, nothing happened.

Idalia let out a frustrated howl. The noise was as penetrating as the scream but contained her rage too. A scuffle broke out on the far side of the cathedrum, though it was quashed quickly enough. “Why am I even here? What do you want from me?”

Sanguinius was about to tell her when a mechanical voice answered instead. “Power,” it said. The skittering form of Heironymus Contino darted forward, followed by an irate looking Sariel. The Magos had once been human, but now resembled a slender waisted centipede with multiple spider like dendrites issuing from its back. Its face showed no trace of flesh, instead three green lenses were placed where eyes may once have been. The silver plate had a small slit for a mouth, but his voice was transmitted from a vox speaker somewhere in the region of his throat. Red robes covered the vast majority of his metallic bulk and he carried a large staff of office from the Mechanicus. “You are here to bring stability to the power coils of this fortress.”

Sariel drew an exasperated breath, drawing Sanguinius’ attention. His look was apologetic enough and the primarch nodded, understanding without words.

“Power?” Idalia snapped, drawing the attention of all once more. “Power!”

“Your voice patterns indicate a certain level of distress. You should calm down.” Contino’s mechanical voice droned. Sariel reached his master and shook his head.

“You think to use me as a battery? As a source for this… this… trash heap?” she all but spat. She rose to her feet, the fabric of her dress pooling at her ankles. “I am a star! I have planets in my sphere. Moons and comets look to me for guidance, and you dare to think I would grant you the use of my light and heat? What do you take me for? A meagre machine, there to be used and discarded when no longer needed. You are a frail, pathetic being, all of you are, and you are not worthy of my light!” The temperature within the cathedrum climbed, something crunched behind them. Some of the glass within the windows shattered, tinkling to the floor. A new crack opened in the floor, bisecting the mosaic that Sanguinius had admired for so long. “I will never submit to you, not willingly. You will have to bind me in chains to get me to power this feeble place. Never will I do such a thing for the likes of you!”

“Idalia-“

“No! Not for you, not for anyone. You put me back where you came from you oversized canary or I will destroy this place and every living thing on it!” she screamed. A large section of roof split under the intensifying heat, crashing to the ground just behind where they were all stood. A wave of dust vaporised as it got too close to the irate star.

“I am an Angel! Not a canary, not a parrot, and you are in my home.” Sanguinius straightened and turned to the star, wings unfurled. He felt his eye-teeth prick his lower gums as his anger finally stirred within him. “You are in my home, and you have the temerity to threaten me. Do you think my father left you here without the capacity to control you? He left you here, a broken think without the capacity to do what you were created for. I can destroy you further, or you can submit, it is your choice. I do not wish to do you harm but threaten my home again and I will put out your light permanently!”

The expression on Idalia’s face never wavered, but the heat diminished.

Sanguinius opened his mouth again but her face changed. The expression melted away, the heat evaporated completely and her eyes shut. The star’s legs bucked beneath her and she fell to the floor, boneless. Sanguinius blinked. Contino scuttled forward but the primarch was too quick. “You have done quite enough damage for one day!” he snapped. “I want you out of my sight before I decide to pull off those dendrites and throw them back to Mars!”

“Such an outcome would be detrimental to the running of this fortress and-“

“Get out!” Sanguinius barked. Sariel, much more in tune with the emotion flying around the room, sent a message in binaric cant to the magos. The dendrites appeared to wilt by a few degrees and they both left the cathedrum. Azkaellon approached next, concern all over his stern face. “See to it that this place is repaired,” Sanguinius barked. He bent down and scooped up the figure of the woman. She was light in his arms, weighed almost nothing. “Raldoron!”

The warrior snapped to attention the moment his name was said, “See to it that this box is removed and placed in storage.”

“Lord,” he said with a nod.

“I am going to place this… creature, or whatever she is, in a safe, secure place. I will see to it that no harm befalls her, but none shall come to our home either.” Raldoron nodded again and turned to begin organising and issuing orders. Azkaellon looked torn for a moment. Sanguinius sighed. “I am not going to be hurt by this, do as I ask friend, I will be fine.” That seemed to be enough, as he then turned to the rest of the Sanguinary Guard and they began doing as they had been told as well. Sanguinius then strode from the cathedrum, clutching the star in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Toria fought down the latest wave of nervous bile. Swallowing and closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to push the worry from her mind. She would not shirk her duty, she would always do that to the best of her ability, nor would she question it. She would do exactly as she had been asked without thought or reward or recognition for it. It did not mean that she was looking forward to it. Rumour had flowed through the halls where the thralls resided and despite her best efforts not to listen, she had heard them all. The tale of the woman who had almost brought down the cathedrum, who had screamed so loud that even Lord Sanguinius had shook at it.

Another wave washed over her as she peaked into the room. The Screamer, as she was being called among the mortal thralls, didn’t look like much. Just laid there on the cot asleep is Toria was honest with herself. She also knew looks could be deceiving. She had been chosen to tend to the Screamer’s needs, if she had any, and so she would do as she was told. She ran a hand over her face and waited. She would wait until the Screamer returned to consciousness before she entered. Secretly, she hoped it wouldn’t happen any time soon.

One of the other thralls, Liza, touched her shoulder and she jumped. “Are you alright?” she asked. Her deep red, curly hair was pinned back in a messy tail, and her dark eyes showed concern. She was of Baal Secundus, her hair and pale skin was clear evidence of her family origin.

“Have you looked in there?” Toria said gesturing to the glass window on the door. Liza shook her head and took a peek through.

“Just looks like a sleeping woman to me,” she said.

“But you have heard the rumours?” Toria forced herself not to chew on her nails.

“You believe them?” Liza asked turning back to her. “I have heard them, think they are a pot of shit as well.”

Toria bobbed her head in not quite a nod and looked through the glass again. “Do you think it’s safe?” she asked.

“Safe?” Liza said. “Is anything we do safe? We work for the Emperor’s warriors, we live and die at their command, this is no different to any of the other orders they give to us really. If this woman is capable of incinerating us with a thought, so be it. Let’s do our best not to piss her off and go from there,” she replied. Her mouth cracked into a smile and she shrugged, “What else can we do? No point in worrying over it, better to get on with it and see what happens.”

“I don’t want to go in there. Not while she is asleep. She might wake up and decide to cook our brains.”

Toria almost started when Liza laughed. “For that to work, you’d have to have brains in the first place!”

“Hey!” Toria smirked.

“Come on, let’s get this done. Lord Amit is due to return later and I want to ensure everything is ready for him.” Toria nodded and gestured for her friend to go first. She had often wondered how Liza managed to work with such an unpredictable warrior, but then again, there would be little choice in the matter. Liza did as she was told, just as Toria did and that was all there was to it.

Liza did go into the room first. Toria swallowed the last remains of her nerves, picked up the basket she had with her and stepped inside. Screamer did not even stir. If it hadn’t been for the rustle of the blanket that had been placed over her, Toria would have thought she were dead. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding, crossed the small room and placed the basket on the bedside table. There was no movement from the bed. Removing the items, she placed them neatly on the table.

“Come and look at her,” Liza said. She was fussing with the bed, making sure that the Screamer was comfortable and not in an awkward position.

“Don’t touch her! You’ll wake her up!” Toria said. She did place the last of the personal effects however and walked over, her curiosity winning out. Screamer looked almost peaceful while asleep.

“I’m not going to touch her!” Liza whispered.

“She looks like us,” Toria said. She stood and just looked at Screamer for a while, wondering how much truth was behind the rumours. “You think she really could bring down the cathedrum?” she asked.

“We’ll find out when she wakes up,” Liza said. “Help me fix the bathroom up.”

It did not take long to do just that. It was clear it hadn’t been used, and was still clean from the previous visit. They wiped it over just the same, ensuring that it would be perfect. When they were done, both breathed a sigh of relief and headed back to the plain chambers Screamer had been given. It seemed a shame to put her in one of the bare ones, but Toria knew there would be a reason for it.

Liza was about to blunder straight through into the room; Toria grabbed her shoulder and stopped her. Blood hammered in her ears and she squeezed a bit harder than she wanted to. Screamer was awake.

***

Sariel did not think it was possible for a Magos to sulk. Heironymous Contino was making the tech marine change his mind very quickly. Although it was not done in an outwardly human manner, the lack of facial features and a lip to push out made that impossible, he was making up for it by ignoring all attempts at speech not made in binary cant and keeping his mechanical arms folded. He had kicked several thralls out of the way as they had returned to the manufactorum located deep underneath the fortress and headed straight to the section he had taken over as his own. Sariel had left him to his thoughts and returned to working on replacing one of the main batteries that had been fried during the last power outage. It was a troublesome thing, for no reason he could discern, it would not retain its charge.

He had stripped the device down once already, but there was no harm in being thorough. He would do so again and see if there was a problem with the coils within. That was where the charge was supposed to be held, perhaps it was leeching away through a fault in the casing. He has seen that before and there was a chance he had missed it the first time. It was a long task, and it would give his mind something else to think about rather than the disaster that had occurred earlier. He had never felt so awkward in front of the primarch before. He had come so close to firing on the Magos for the disrespect he’d shown. Thinking about it now made his teeth clench.

The spanner in his hand clattered to the floor. Sariel let out a harsh breath. Anger was not the way of the Omnissiah. He recited several of the litanies he had learned while studying on Mars and let the emotion go. That was his problem, far too emotional for his education to continue further. He had rejoined the Legion shortly after an episode of pique and had not regretted it thus far. There were plenty of fine machine spirits to tend to here, and he was happy in his work. Perhaps the machine spirit of these batteries was sick. It was a low, dull thing at the best of times, but if it was malfunctioning in itself, that might be the problem.

One of his armour’s dendrites held a light in just the right place so he was able to see properly. His helmet magnified the casing of the battery as he took the inner mechanism out. A further scan showed him that there was no defect or crack in the outer shell, just like the last time he had looked.

He put it down and pressed his lips together. This was not a problem he would let beat him, he would find a solution eventually. Not today however. The chronometer of his armour informed him that it was time to rejoin his battle brothers for combat simulation, something he could ill afford to miss. They were taking one of the Land Raiders out today, one of the ones that was his responsibility to tend. He’d repaired the feisty machine and restored it to full working order not three days ago; this would be its first outing.

Replacing the torch on the counter, Sariel made sure his bolter was mag-locked to his thigh and that his tools were where they should be. He was so busy making sure he had everything he needed, that he failed to notice the pale glow coming from the battery parts. It was only later, when he returned, that he would realise what he needed to do to solve this particular problem.

As it was, he arrived at the muster point at the correct time. Sariel would not be driving the Land Raider, but supervising the scout team that was utilising it. Driving would be down to one of them. His eyes would ensure that no major damage was done to the wayward vehicle. He knew this one was not the best for training recruits with, however it would prepare them for the difficult task of managing awkward machine spirits. Not all of them were as compliant as the ones that they were used to. Some of them need appeasing and working with rather than meekly doing what they were told.

It was always pleasing to watch the scouts realise this. He had done so himself, and his ability to connect with the machines they worked with had marked him out for apprenticeship on Mars. He too would be looking out for those who had an affinity with the machine. It would be pleasing to get out in the field too, even if it were just to assist with training scouts.


	5. Chapter 5

Sanguinius and Azkaellon watched the training exercise with keen interest. The recruits had been divided into two groups; one attacking, one defending. The noise echoed up to where they stood, nothing discernible to Azkaellon’s ears, though his primarch may well be able to pick out what was being said. Neither side had been able to make a decisive strike yet, though there had been glimmers of an attempt. From what he could see, the Land Raider was the star of the exercise so far, and that was likely because Sariel was giving those inside tips, despite being told not to. He could key into the vox to listen in, but would wait and see what the scouts reported after the exercise.

A hot wind carried dust and sand up to where the two of them stood observing. It would be second night soon; Baal’s twin moons made even day and night a complex affair here. It did not mean the exercise would cease, Azkaellon was loath to call it a battle, for it truly wasn’t. He had to remind himself that these recruits were still raw, still learning. One day, some of them might prove worthy enough to join the Sanguinary Guard, but they had a long way to go before they would be considered for that lofty position.

“What’s on your mind Azkaellon?” Sanguinius asked.

He blinked and looked up from the battle. “Were all previous cohorts as terrible as this, or have we reached a new low?” he said gesturing to the sand before them.

“I seem to recall your cohort was particularly terrible the first few times they were tested on the sand,” Sanguinius said.

“As bad as this?” he asked.

“All of them are,” Sanguinius said, “We tend to forget as each cohort grows into its strengths and overcomes its weaknesses.” The Angel was right of course, and Azkaellon nodded. It just seemed that this particular group had a lot of weaknesses to overcome. His attention was drawn by approaching footsteps and he turned away from the display of incompetence before him. It was Toria. She had walked towards Sanguinius but on seeing him, remembered her place. Her head lowered, and she slowed her steps. He did catch the trace of a smile on her face, but it quickly disappeared. She was a good thrall, well trained and obedient.

Most of the time. She did not stop her approach however and he frowned. “Remember your place, thrall,” he said. His voice was a low warning, a tone that she would recognise and know well. He did not want to punish her for any transgression made, but he would if the need arose. One slip was forgivable.

She did bow, though not on one knee as he would have liked. Sanguinius had expressed that he didn’t want that from any within the Legion and so he was content with this milder show of subservience. “You’re going to frighten the poor woman Azkaellon,” Sanguinius said, “What is it?”

He watched Toria swallow. For a moment he thought she would look up, she did not. Good. “Idalia has awakened,” she blurted out. “We thought you should know.”

“And how is she?” Sanguinius asked. There was a boom behind them as the Land Raider was finally ordered to fire, the sound made Toria flinch. Azkaellon ignored it, and the resulting clatter that came afterwards too. His attention was on the thrall and how she was coping being in the presence of her Primarch.

“Confused, but calm,” Toria said. “Liza has stayed with her.”

“Good,” Sanguinius said. “Is there anything else?”

“Idalia was… she was.” Sanguinius waited patiently for Toria to speak, as did Azkaellon. “She was demanding to see you. For answers.”

“I understand. Go and inform her I shall be along shortly. I have tasks to complete first.” Sanguinius said. Toria nodded her head without raising her eyes. She bowed again and turned to leave.

“Thrall. I expect to have you attend to me at the usual time. I shall take my meal in my chambers, see that it is done.” She nodded again and backed away before turning and leaving without another word.

“Be nice to the poor woman,” Sanguinius said, “You’ll frighten her to death one of these days!”

“Hardly,” Azkaellon replied. He had caught the small smile on her lips again as she left, and a brief flicker of the same gesture had spread on his face before being banished. “We should see to these scouts,” he said gesturing behind him, “At least try and pick out who is showing a sliver of potential!” With that, they both turned back to the training exercise behind them.

***

“What do you mean he isn’t coming?” Idalia snapped. She folded her spindly arms over her strangely shaped chest and pressed her lips together. What was the point in the fleshy lumps on her front? Surely they just got in the way! And the functions of the form were disgusting. Already she’d had to visit the bathroom twice, such an inconvenience. How did mortals get anything done with the needs and urges that her body had! She’d had to stop to eat as well, lest her stomach prevent her from concentrating on anything. She could hear her heart beating, hear blood flowing around the body and all manner of other sound that she had no idea about. The other in the room, Liza or something, had said that she would get used to it, but Idalia wasn’t so sure on that. How would Liza know anyway? Was she an ancient being of incredible power trapped in a body like she was? Idalia doubted that a great deal.

“He isn’t coming immediately,” Toria said. “He will be here when he has finished dealing with other tasks he has.” Idalia turned her gaze to the small woman and sniffed. It seemed like a good gesture to show her displeasure.

“What could possibly be more important than me?” she huffed.

It seemed that Toria didn’t have an answer to that question, if her opening and closing mouth was anything to go by. “The running of the planet, the countless lives under his command, the rest of the expedition fleets the Blood Angel’s are combined with. This may be the home planet of the Primarch, but that doesn’t make it his first priority all the time,” Liza said.

Idalia didn’t know what any of that meant, all she heard was that he was not coming to deal with this situation. It meant that he was delaying in putting her back where she belonged and that she had to be in this body for a while longer. She looked down at her hands, the fingers were long, ending in oval nails that looked neat and tidy. Worse, was that she could feel the power inside her, but couldn’t access it.

He had done this, whether the Angel or his father, one of them was responsible for her being unable to reach what she held deep within her core. “How do you do it?” she muttered.

“What was that?” Liza asked.

“How do you… live in such a constricted vessel as this?” She looked at her hands again and shook her head. The effect was dizzying and she thought she might fall. Her hand touched one of the nearby pieces of furniture and her mind settled. The two women in the room exchanged glances. Was that fear? Were they afraid of her? Her stomach made a strange noise and she shook her head.

“What are you?”

“You know what, never mind,” Idalia said. It was clear that these two would be of little use other than bringing her the things her body needed to survive, like food and water, and other such sundries. She waved her hand and sat back down on the bed again. “I’ll just wait until _he_ returns.”

The two ladies left her then, shutting the door behind her and leaving her in the room.

Idalia did not move. She looked at the door. Time passed.

She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when the door opened again. The winged one stepped inside, followed by the one with the scowling face. Both of them were taller than the two women who had been here earlier. Idalia’s eyes narrowed. “About time,” she snorted.

“It is customary to greet those who visit you with warmth and by asking how they are,” Sanguinius said. “I understand that you are not used to such pleasantries, so I shall model that for you. Then you will know in future how to greet others.” He paused for a moment. “Good Evening Idalia, how are you?” he asked.

She frowned. “But I don’t care how you are.”

“Good Evening Idalia, how are you?” he repeated.

Idalia folded he arms over her chest and frowned.

“I want to talk to you about-“

“Good Evening Idalia, how are you?” he said a third time. She thought she heard a repressed snort from the other one but she couldn’t be sure.

“I am fine.” She huffed.

“You shouldn’t frown so hard, you’ll end up looking like Azkaellon here,” Sanguinius said. The other warrior snorted but remained silent for now. Sanguinius stepped into the room properly then and walked over to the side table. He poured two glasses of water and handed one to her. She took it and sipped it. It was cool, clean and tasted slightly sweet.

“I do not want to be here,” she stated.

“I gathered that,” he said sipping some of the water, “But here you are none the less, and there is nothing I can do to change that. I cannot restore you to where you were, I cannot heal you, nor am I able to release the power contained inside you.” He paused and she let those words sink in. Idalia sipped some more of the water, aware that already it was doing things to her insides. She felt cleaner for it.

“So, I am stuck here?” she asked. “In this fragile body?”

“For now,” Sanguinius said. Azkaellon shifted, his armour purring as he folded his arms over his chest. She did not like the look on his face, he looked as though he intended to pounce and do great harm to her. She was unsure if that was true or just his expression. “But I have my father’s notes and I plan on using them. My home needs a stable power source, but I am not in the habit of using those without their consent.”

Idalia nodded. She had certainly not been taken willingly!

“One way or another, we will solve the problems we have, but for now I need to know one thing,” he said.

“What?”

“Are you a threat to me or my people? I cannot have you remain here if you are. Now that you’ve had time to calm yourself, I an answer to that.” He drained the last of the water and placed the glass on the side.

“And if I am?”

“Then I will shove you back into the crate and return you to my father. I will not risk the lives of my warriors or my people in so callous a manner.” His tone brokered no argument, and she knew he meant every word.

Idalia shook her head, “I do not know what I am capable of,” she said. “If I find a way to return to what I was before I am going to take it.” It was her turn to pause, thinking about how to phrase the next part. “I do not want to be here, I will not pretend otherwise, but I won’t hurt anyone intentionally.” She was unsure how sincere she was especially if some of these people stood between her and returning to her system, but the words would do for now.

Sanguinius nodded, “Good enough for now,” he said. “But I am going to ensure you are guarded while you roam the Fortress. There are places that are not safe for you, and there are places I do not want you going. Until some measure of trust had been established.”

This was a vastly different from the man she had screamed at previously. Now he was showing himself to be a leader, rather than a passionate weirdo. “Alright,” she said. She would play along for the time being, it seemed as though she was stuck here for the time being anyway, there was no sense in making it more uncomfortable than it had to be. “I can abide by these terms.”

The Angel stood. “Excellent. I shall leave you for now. I have duties to attend to. However I do not wish you to be bored. I will have the thralls bring some reading material, and you are free to roam the immediate vicinity of this room. I shall return when I have something to tell you.”

“Fine,” she said.

And with that, the Angel and his bodyguard – did he even need a bodyguard? – left her to her thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

Raldoron was troubled. It was little to do with the power situation and more to do with the initiates. He was reading the reports sent to him by the Master of Recruits, a dour fellow named Varis and trying to find some positive reflection of the training mission that had happened and couldn’t find any at all. To not find a single action worthy of note was a poor reflection on the recruits; it made him wonder what Varis was observing that made him so disparaging. There was plenty of moaning in the report, but that was all it was: moaning.

On the other hand, Sariel had found several actions the team he had been sided with worthy of note and was already putting in a request for at least one of them to second to his tutelage, should the individual wish to do so. Sariel was far more hopeful and optimistic in his outlook, and that might have a good deal to do with the two reports, however for Varis to find nothing was quite difficult to believe. Raldoron knew the truth would likely be in the middle somewhere, but he would speak to both of them together to find out why there was such a difference.

Sometimes, he longed to return to the rank and file. It was so much simpler when he had to do as he was told and shoot things.

He dismissed that thought the moment it arose. He had never been satisfied as a mere line officer and he knew it. His drive had got him where he was and although sometimes, it was tricky, he knew he was where he belonged.

There was no other way to do it, he had to speak to the pair of them. A vox call and both informed him they were on their way. Raldoron signalled one of the thralls to fetch wine; if they were going to have uncomfortable conversations, they may as well do so over some wine. It might make it easier for them both to speak, and he certainly enjoyed the taste! The thrall returned before the other warriors arrived, so when both walked in, almost at the same time, he was already sipping from a large glass. “Come in, both of you,” he said.

Raldoron’s room was not huge, but it accommodated the other two warriors with ease. He caught Sariel looking at the walls and taking in the sketches that had never been turned into paintings and other half scribbled doodles that adorned the place. He made no comment on it however. Varis simply approached the desk, his expression dark and his demeanour less than open. No change there then. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the vacant chairs. He would speak with them on even terms, neither of them were in trouble, though it was clear Varis was already defensive.

“What’s this about?” Varis said as he sat.

“How can I help First Captain?” Sariel asked. He too sat down, ensuring none of his dendrites accidentally knocked anything as he did so.

“I want to talk to you both about the battle that happened. Your reports differ quite substantially and I think a recount from your lips rather than a piece of paper might help me gain an understanding of what happened. Sariel, you were full of praise for the recruits you worked with, informing me that they were quick thinking, clear of mind and dedicated in their focus. They handed the Land Raider well and you have even asked for one of them to be trained as a tech marine, this is true?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sariel replied.

“Then Varis, please explain to me, why you are so disparaging of the recruits in your report. According to your account, there was nothing of worth that occurred, and no one stood out to you.” Raldoron said. “I find the disparity between the reports alarming brothers.”

Varis looked uncomfortable for a moment, huffed out a sigh and then began speaking, “I am hard on the recruits, harder than perhaps I need to be, but they need to reach high standards if they are to survive as warriors. This group is now better or worse than others I have trained, and they have a long way to go. They lack cohesion, the ability to communicate effectively and are unable to work together. I know there are some individuals who are capable and will be effective leaders when the time calls for them to be so. They need to grasp basics first and so far, they are not showing much promise. In this battle, I was assessing their ability to work in teams, it is apparent that they need further work on this,” Varis explained.

Raldoron nodded. “I see. Sariel saw the promise in the individual, whereas Varis saw the overall inability of teamwork.”

Both of them agreed,

“Well, I am going to recommend that one of the recruits he saw is put forth for training under Sariel, we can always use additional techmarines and those that show willing are the best ones for it. I am going to give Varis the final decision on that.” Sariel accepted that without protest. “As for the rest of them. If they need to work on teamwork skills, put them into squads of five and create a contest for them where no individual prospers without the aid of their team. Make it apply to everything they have to do, be it cleaning latrines or in fights. Blood, do it for their artwork as well.” Varis grunted, but accepted the suggestion for what it was. “I want to see another report in a week. And I will meet with the best five and sort out some sort of prize for them as well.”

“That might motivate them to work together,” Varis said.

“Find a way, I want better results,” Raldoron said before draining the last of his wine. “I have work to do brothers, and I am sure you do as well.” He got to his feet, the other two did the same. Raldoron was about to show them to the door when the power failed. The room was plunged into darkness and the door sealed shut. Sariel cursed.

***

Azkaellon raised an eyebrow as Toria cursed soundly. “I can still hear in the dark,” he said. The woman squeaked at his words, but what she said next really had him amused.

“I am willing to bet that you are able to see as well,” she said. He chuckled, unable to stop the mirth from leaving him and shook his head. “Hold still!”

“So you’re giving the orders now are you?” he asked. She had been summoned to his chambers to assist with ridding him of some unwanted tension. Her little fingers were deft at it too. Toria was a pliant thrall, willing to do what she was told, learn his ways. and accept that this was how he was. She never spoke back to him in public, never defied his wishes and was as dedicated as any Blood Angel was.

“No,” she said softly, “But I am now unable to see.”

“I should punish you for such transgressions,” he said. Her fingers dug into the skin around the port of his armour at his neck and his customary scowl eased. She was stood behind him as he sat on the floor, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. Dressed in nothing more complex than undergarments and duty robes, Azkaellon let out a breath, waiting for her answer.

Toria swallowed, he could hear the click in her throat as she did so, but she was unafraid. He did not want her to fear him. “I apologise for my transgression Lord, and would earn your forgiveness,” she said. All the while, her hands eased the knots from his shoulders and the tension from his neck. One of her hands gathered up the length of his hair and tied it up in a rough bun, keeping it out of the way.

“You may earn it by informing me what has occurred with Idalia,” he said. He already knew most of it, but Toria would hear things that others wouldn’t. She was a good girl and she would tell him what he wanted.

She was silent for a moment, focusing on a particularly large knot caused by a blow in training. Azkaellon did not wince but he felt her touch even more. “She is mostly confused about most things,” Toria said. “She is unaware how to… human I think is the best way of putting it. She complains about the basic things, going to the bathroom, being hungry, smelling things. There is no understanding about how we live and doesn’t seem to get that her wants and needs are not the only thing that matters.” She paused in her words, her fingers finding another stubborn spot.

“What does she say of Lord Sanguinius?” he asked when she did not speak again.

“Not a lot really. Only that he is less attentive than he should be. She needs to learn that the world no longer revolves around her, that’s all.” Toria said.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if she was a star, she would have had things orbiting her, relying on her for everything. Her light was their life and now… Now she is stuck in a body like ours without a clue how it works. It is going to take time for her to adjust and learn,” she said. Azkaellon leaned his head forward, savouring the perfect pressure she applied. He thought about what she had said, and could see her point. When he had been transformed from boy to transhuman, he’d had to adjust to his larger size. This might be similar.

“I see,” he said. “I absolve you of your error,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Toria let out a breath, which touched the back of his bare neck. He shivered; the sensation blissful.

“I am relieved,” she said, the ritual complete. He let her work silently for a while, listening to her heart beating as she moved her fingers. The tension had long since fled, but he liked the sensation and this was a rare moment of peace. She must have felt the easing of his shoulders as her fingers stilled and rested on the base of his neck. “Was there anything else Lord?” she asked.

Azkaellon lifted his head and she gently tugged his soft hair loose. Her fingers carded it out and he leaned into the touch; she had a way of doing so that sent tingles through his scalp. He reached up and caught her hand in hers. Twisting, he touched the palm with his lips. Her pulse leapt and he smiled into the darkness. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he said. He softened his tone; she would understand.

“I have,” she nodded

“I think you deserve a reward for that.”

“Thank you,” she said. Her tone had altered a fraction, increasing in pitch. Good. Azkaellon had plans for her that involved the floor and he would see to it that she was ready for such a thing. He might be a hard ass, as Raldoron was so fond of informing him, but he wasn’t a bastard. He took her tiny hand and led her around, shifting a little so she could sit on his lap. She settled quickly, her hand resting on his chest. Her heat permeated the thin fabric of his robes; it was his turn to swallow. He did not hesitate, claimed her lips with his in a rare, familiar passion. She was as soft and pliant as ever, yielding to the soft, insistent pressure and welcoming him.

He pushed his hand into her long, light brown hair and held her head, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. She hummed into the kiss, her grip on the front of his robes tightening. Her scent changed, his finger caressed Toria’s jaw, her hand slipped down his stomach. His muscles twitched, almost ticklish. Azkaellon allowed it, enjoyed it even. Taking her hand, he guided it to-

“Azkaellon!” The vox crackled. The lights flickered back on. Toria was sat in his lap, flushed bright red. Her eyes immediately fell from his face and she pressed her full lips together. He broke their kiss before placing another one on her cheek.

“I promise to find you and continue this later,” he said.

“I know you will, Lord,” she said. She scooted off his lap and he got to his feet. He felt her eyes on him as he picked up the voxcaster.

“What is it?”

“Lord Azkaellon, you’re needed on the landing platforms, be there in twenty minutes, as requested by Lord Sanguinus” came the crackled voice of Mattias, one of the Sanguinary Guard.

“I will be there,” he said before replacing the vox. He turned to Toria and gave her one of his best smiles. “I require your assistance in arming myself, would you do me the honour?” he asked, knowing she was unable to refuse. The smile was returned and she nodded.

“Of course Lord,” she said.

“My thanks.” With that, he strode towards his arming chamber, the scowl returning to his face once again.


	7. Chapter 7

Sanguinius soared above the Arx Angelicum, the hot wind lifting him easily upwards into the sky. From this height, the fortress looked fit for nothing more than Pequno Scorpions. It was a sight he relished, it gave him the opportunity to see the best spots for further expansion, where problems might occur and what the surrounding desert might reveal. So far on this second morning, there was not a great deal going on within the sands.

The wind tugged and pulled on his hair, washing his face with the scent of dry sand and baking earth. It was the smell of home, as close as he could get at least. Up here, he wouldn’t be bothered by his sons either, he would be able to think on the issues they were facing without them interrupting his thoughts. He knew they meant well, and the messages they brought were important, but he needed to think without them around.

It was little effort to maintain the height he had achieved. He was no boy mutant trying to fly for the first time anymore, it was a well practiced ritual that he could do without thinking now. Flight was a joy only he truly knew, aside from the small selection of birds that lived on Baal. The sky was a space he could flee to when he needed to. Azkaellon would be concerned, he always was, but there was no danger for the Angel here; he had battled the largest of creatures on all manner of planet, there was nothing he could not kill on Baal.

His thoughts were not on creatures, or what he could kill, nor were they truly on Azkaellon and his worries. They were focused on the set of orders he had received from Terra. The next set of planets that would be liable for compliance were near Baal, galactically speaking anyway. It meant that they could prosecute the campaign without the need for substantial travel. He had already sent out several of the Expedition Fleets to the further locations, the last of which he could see gathering far beneath him.

He would be sad to see his sons go, but they were doing his Father’s work. They would fight hard in his name and bring the world to compliance. They were going to reunite a splinter of humanity in the Ruoal System, there was little more information to be had on who resided there, or what had happened since the onset of Long Night. They would find out soon enough when contact was made. Sanguinius always hoped that it would be those who would re-join the light of humanity without a fight or issue. He relished the compliances without bloodshed the most, it was a good opportunity to learn of other cultures and to guide people back to the Emperor’s way.

A colossal bang, followed by a wash of hot air, shattered his musings. The scent of fyclene and burning hit him as a physical blow. Immediately, his keen amber eyes picked out the source of the noise and he sent himself into a furious dive. Seconds later, he was landing on the ground. Already, shouts of command were going out. Warriors were hastily removing ammunition crates away from the sudden explosion.

“What’s going on?” Sanguinius asked.

“Catastrophic power surge,” said a nearby warrior.

“That doesn’t usually cause explosions…” Sanguinius shook his head. The evidence was there before him! He already knew Magos Contino would know exactly what had happened. He could hear the scuttling of the Magos’ insectoid feet from here. “Is there anyone injured? Trapped?” The warrior shook his head.

“I don’t know! There is a team already closer searching,” he said.

Sanguinius was already running towards them, but raised a hand in thanks anyway. There was a large team already working to put out the fire and prevent it from spreading further, that was making good progress in that regard. At least power armour prevented any of them from being too severely burned! The Primarch was not surprised to see that it was Amit heading up this team. He was an honest speaker, a quick thinker and swift to act. Sometimes this could be a problem, such was not the case now.

There were several casualties off to one side, all of them thralls. Some of them looked to be majorly hurt, and they was being tended to by Servio and another mortal. It was such a shame that they were as frail as they were. He hated to see them harmed when they should have been protected. They did their duty in the way they were able and did not deserve to come to harm for it. Sanguinius shook his head, and clenched his teeth together. The fire in his chest would far outstrip the one burning from the power cell before him. He swallowed it for now.

“Contino!” he shouted. Some of the mortals flinched. The magos froze where they were, their brass face plate turning towards the Primarch, “Explain to me why there is a fire burning in this perfectly functional power cell?” he said striding up to the magos.

There were several clicks and the lens focused. There was another and the magos switched from binary cant to gothic. “This cell was undergoing maintenance when there was an unknown surge. A Two hundred and thirty four percent increase in output caused the relay coils to overload. They are not a storage vessel, merely a conduit,” the magos explained. Their voice was tinny, sounding through a modified voxcaster at where their throat was.

“Where did the surge come from?” Sanguinius asked. He looked over at the fire, which was now under some semblance of control.

“The anomaly is unknown,” Contino said.

The Angel nodded. “Find out,” he said. He swallowed his ire and let out a breath. The magos had already turned and scuttled away. Sanguinius has an inclination of what had happened, and he knew he had to pay another visit to Idalia. She might have decided to fiddle about with the power, as she was destined to take control of it, and overloaded it by mistake. If she had accepted that this was what she was going to do, then so much the better. He would speak to her and see what had happened.

Idalia was not in her room, but sat at a table reading a book outside. Sanguinius did not approach straight away but observed her. Her mortal form was rather lovely, especially now that she wasn’t yelling or being obtuse. Her black hair fell over her face and she kept pushing it aside with a pale hand. He wondered if she was aware that it could be tied out the way in elaborate ways that would frame her face well. He smiled. Perhaps he would so that for her. She was reading a fictional book, one detailing the myths of Baal Secundus if he remembered rightly.

“How long are you going to lurk there without saying anything?” she said without looking up.

Sanguinius coughed, “Well, good morning Idalia,” he said.

“Hello.”

He stepped forward but suddenly found there were no words to say. He had a lot he wanted to talk about but no words came to him.

“Was there something you wanted?” she asked, finally looking up.

He pressed his lips together and tugged the corners of his mouth up into a smile. “There was, but I’d like to know how you are first,” he said. The chair she was sitting at was astartes sized, perfect for her but too small for his larger frame. He did pull the chair out however and sat on the floor, kneeling up as though he was sat instead.

“I am getting used to this,” she said gesturing to herself. “Bodies are… disgusting chemical bags which produce and alarming amount of waste, but they allow one to see the world in a different way. I would think they are capable of some wonderful things too.”

“Yes,” Sanguinius nodded.

“Food, I never knew putting things in your mouth could be so lovely. I am particularly fond of the yellow fruit that is squashy under the skin,” she said. She flicked her hair back again and huffed, “But this is annoying. It looks nice, but it is annoying, how do you do your things with it in your face all the time?” she asked. Sanguinius got to his feet and pulled a black band from around his wrist.

“Like this,” he said. She froze as he moved behind her and gathered up her hair. She made no attempt to hide that his fingers in her hair felt good. He smiled. He didn’t do anything elaborate, merely gathered her hair up and tied it in a simple warrior’s tail. Some small strands still escaped; the texture of her hair was very fine so it was unavoidable. He then sat down again. “Better?” he asked.

She touched the top of her head, then the tail itself. The she smiled. Sanguinius was convinced that she lit up when she did. “Yes,” she said. “I will be able to do so much more without that in my way.”

“It’s far easier to see,” Sanguinius said. He almost added that he was now able to see her eyes properly, and that they were worth seeing but decided against it. That opinion was one he would keep to himself for now. “What are you reading?” Idalia flicked her eyes down to the book again and turned it to face him. Sanguinius lifted the cover and glanced at it. It was indeed a volume on the myths of his home planet. “What do you think about it?”

“I am unsure on a lot of the references, I understand the language for the most part and the women who tend me have assisted me when I am unsure, but the creatures and types of landscape are confusing,” she said. Sanguinius nodded and tilted his head a little. “What?” she asked.

“I have a bargain to strike with you,” he said.

“Oh?”

“I will show you the places of Baal, her moons where people live and how we go about the strange phenomenon known as living,” he said. “I’ll show you what it means to be alive, our way of life and what we are about,” he said. “In return, you will assist us with our power problem.” She looked as though she might protest again for a moment, but he held up a hand. Idalia shut her mouth again. “I know I cannot return you to where you came from, I have no idea how you got here despite having read my father’s work, but I can help you here. I want to. I want you to be happy here, to know that you’re welcome and want you to want to be here.”

Idalia looked at her hands, her fists clenched for a moment before relaxing. “I’ve not done anything in regards to the power,” she said. “I don’t know how it would even work. I’m not like one of the batteries that can just be plugged in and I will not submit to that metal man poking me either,” she said.

“Nor should you,” Sanguinius said. “We can work together on it, when you are ready to do so.”

“I might never be ready,” she said.

“Then we will find another way, but you will help me do so,” he said. She thought for a moment; Sanguinius could see the ideas flowing over her face. He just hoped that it was something she would do. “You don’t have to agree straight away, if you want to think about it, do so,” he said.

Idalia shook her head, “I will help you,” she said. He tilted her head a little, “What else am I going to do around here except read books about things I do not understand. At least if I help you, I might know what I am reading about,” she said. Sanguinius reached his hand over the table, touching his long fingers to hers.

“I would be honoured to show you my home,” he said. “Just tell me though, you have nothing to do with the power surge earlier?” he asked.

“I’d not know how to,” she said. Sanguinius nodded, believing her. Idalia was a lot of things, but she had not shown herself as a liar yet. She touched his hand back, a small smile on her face. “I know you have better things to do than talk to me, go and do them.” She pulled her fingers away and took her book back. Dismissed, Sanguinius got to his feet again.

“I will see you soon,” he said. She was right, he now needed to see what Contino had found out!


End file.
